Something didn’t feel quite right about yesterday’s blog posting. I couldn’t shake the sense that I had missed a really important point, a point that would explain the feeling that this marvellous old church in Kingston had summonsed me – twice within forty-eight hours – but for what?
In the midst of last evening’s feral rain storm, the penny dropped with dramatic clarity: I had been summonsed to be a witness. Likewise, my camera. Together, we had been charged with helping to tell the story of the Church of the Good Thief.
I don’t understand how this act of witness will play itself out, but I do know, with absolute clarity, that I had to be inside that church on Saturday morning and outside that church on Monday at dawn.
One thing this experience does clarify for me is why I have been so powerfully drawn to photography in the last eighteen months. When I wrote in another blog posting that my camera now feels like an extension of my soul, I was not being facile – I really meant it. I am being drawn to photography as an act of witness.
Thank you for reading my thoughts.
Until next time,